Jonah Hex: Double Cross
by Jon Repesh
Summary: <html><head></head>Jonah's quarry isn't quite who he expected in this tale of treachery and vengeance.</html>


Off once again in the midst of a bitter cold Arizona evening is bounty hunter Jonah Hex, this time on the trail of a routine horse thief. Not the worst of offenders in the pantheon of crimes committed in the lawless environs and unruly times of late 1800s America. The whys and wherefores are irrelevant, an illegal deed has been perpetrated and a fee to be gained. The basest of human motivations that compel one to commit acts of unscrupulous malice come with the territory, regardless of which part of the moral spectrum they arose. For many, a constant reversion to crime has become their very essence, their lifeblood, who and what they are, and once this point has been reached, it is far too late for analyzing. Rationalization and the placement of blame on society, bad parenting, or a rough childhood bring little solace to their victims or their families. Ill advised choices were made, scarred lives the painful results, and now a price must be paid. That's where hardened, resolute men like Jonah Hex figure. Any bounty hunter worth a damn will tell you their profession is best accomplished utilizing a one dimensional and indifferent mindset of right and wrong, black and white. There can be no crisis of conscience in this ethical arena. Leave the shades of gray to the judges, politicians, and social reformers. When you're out on a frigid mesa fighting to stay alive against a ruthless cutthroat who sees you as his sole obstacle to freedom and a noose around the neck, furious thoughts of survival are all that matter.

A brisk icy wind quickly snaps Jonah out of his passing reverie. A few more shots of whisky back at the bar would have provided his body with a much needed numbing effect, though also with an unneeded dulling of the cerebral senses and motor reflexes. It is quite unwise to give any physical or mental edge to your quarry, though they must make those same choices while on the run, comfort vs. awareness. Without a full moon to guide him, the opaque blackness hangs ominously like a death's shroud, sending an unnerving chill down his spine. How often has he traveled through this rock strewn terrain, at times reassuringly familiar and others intently alien. When all alone in the darkness of the desert, a false sense of serenity can impinge, a potentially dangerous state that can leave one unaware of the perils at hand. Whether confronting animals of the two or four legged variety, or ones that slither surreptitiously in the night, the desert is fraught with creatures scratching and clawing for one more night of liberty or sustenance. The immediate thought of sustenance rekindles Jonah's grateful memories of that rib eye steak he'd partaken earlier that evening accompanied by the aforementioned shots of red eye. Who knows when he might eat again.

The tracking of a man can take many days, which at that point becomes a learning experience, if one survives the predicament. When first initiating the hunt, your adversary is an unknown commodity. Still people are creatures of habit, patterns formed, the path of least resistance followed, all quite natural, and precisely what Hex is counting on. This is where the numerous lonely nights in search of other desperadoes pay dividends. He knows the fastest routes, the vantage points, where a bush whacking is likely to take place or better yet, where to concoct one himself. It's also where his military tenure serving the fighting rebels of the glorious south provides invaluable strategic experience; attack, defend, fortify, flank. Some aspects of conflict remain the same whether confronting a regiment of trained soldiers or one reckless outlaw. You still need to get inside your opponent's head, gauge their likely plan of attack, and move accordingly. Another edge is his emotional detachment, which when contrasted against his prey's heightened anxiety, will allow him to think and act with superior clarity and execution. Not that a fear induced adrenaline spike cannot give his opponent a physical edge during close quarters combat, a situation any good bounty hunter prefers to avoid at all costs. One option is to just shoot the bastard at first chance, a quick and safe means to an end that doesn't trouble Hex in the least, however an option not available here. Horse thievery does not warrant a dead or alive bounty. Of course it all comes down to whose horse was stolen, doesn't it?

Jonah reflects on his conversation earlier that day with mayor Horace Stone of Bad Rock, New Mexico. It was he who offered the bounty of $500 for a horse thief named Sam Crane. The name doesn't ring a bell, but the southwest territories cover considerable ground with tens of thousands now inhabiting them, with more and more moving out to the Wild Wild West every day. Times are changing, and soon he knows men like himself will be an anachronism best left forgotten, replaced by a coordinated group of local sheriffs and national Pinkertons. Extensive railroad and telegraph systems, driven significantly by the allure of gold, have made what was once a brave new world into ever growing population centers and imminent statehood. It's no secret how society mutters about men of his kind, with hushed and clipped undertones. He knows what they are saying, but damn it, someone has to do the dirty work, and the pay certainly beats being a farmhand, where the paltry wages earned quickly vanish after a few shots of whiskey and a poker game gone sour. It also beats scraping out an existence on the other side of the law, which offers risky rewards and possible six by nine living arrangements for the rest of your god forsaken life. He knows deep inside he thrives on freedom, the wide open spaces. His restless nature does not allow for settling down in one particular spot with a wife and family. In his candid moments, he acknowledges being a thrill seeker and needs the hunt. Speaking of which, Crane left town earlier that morning, creating a larger ruckus than expected considering the lesser severity of the crime. Sure to many a man's horse is his most prized possession and a vital necessity in gaining employment, but he rarely has been summoned to track down horse thieves, much less enticed by such a generous bounty. Whose horse was this anyway? Not that it matters, a job is a job. Or is it personal?

Crane's twelve hour head start should not present a problem, especially since he reckons no one will follow him. He knows no sheriff will pursue for something this trivial, and the victim is without the means to do it himself. He certainly won't expect a hired gun skilled in the art of tracking like Hex. With that in mind, he considers Crane's likely course. Reports had him heading due west out of Bad Rock, and with few settlements in between, the California territory was the most obvious destination. That's a few days ride for even the finest of horsemen. While Hex has enjoyed the few times he's been there, he does not want to extend this chase needlessly. He's familiar with a northern trail that's initially just a few extra miles, but once on it can make up significant ground in contrast to the westerly route Crane will likely employ, and which will require a wider swath of the Colorado River to traverse. If all goes well, he should be west of the Colorado waiting for Crane at sunrise the day after tomorrow.

The town of Laughlin has risen over the past few years. With its beneficial proximity to the Colorado, its existence is no surprise. It's growing rapidly, with numerous trading posts, saloons, and a gambling hall already prospering. Cattle ranchers are thriving, thus providing the means for some of the finest restaurants west of the Mississippi. All of the aforementioned amenities are on Hex's mind as he finally arrives. After thirty six straight hours of riding with but two stops, one for a brief evening's nap, and the other for a much needed respite for his own horse, he checks in to the local hotel to tend to his own needs; a lengthy bath, a nourishing steak, and a bottle of whisky to wash down some of that trail dust. Like any boomtown, especially ones with gambling, you can expect beautiful women. Hex has met all kinds of women, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes all three in one, which are the ones you really have to beware. In his line of work, you meet more bad than good, and even the latter are the ones left scarred by the men he hunts. What would Hex do with a good woman anyway? His lot in life does not entail respectability and family virtues. He's done some dastardly deeds in his time and the only women who would have him have a few skeletons of their own hiding in their closets. All this reflection is irrelevant anyway, he's here to do a job. At that point, with yet another glass filled with whiskey firmly in hand, in walks the most provocative woman he has ever seen.

"Excuse me. I'm not very comfortable sitting at the bar, being the only lady and all. Would you mind if I sat at your table?"

"**Of course not. ** **Please, sit down."**

"I'm new to Laughlin. I didn't realize it was so developed out here."

"**This is more of a way station for people heading out to the coast. That's where most will settle. The weather is mild and it's quite beautiful."**

"It is hot here, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"**No. I'm here on work."**

"What type of work do you do, Mr…"

"**Hex…Jonah Hex. I'm a trapper….a trapper of men."**

"A real life bounty hunter. I've never met one before. Do you always get your man, Mr. Hex….or woman?"

"**You won't last long in this profession if you don't. Your reputation is your calling card, but that card has a flip side. For every man I've sent to jail…or the gallows, there's a brother, father, or lover that seeks revenge. I can handle a man upfront. It's the ones aiming a gun at your back that can make your time here on earth a very short one."**

"Sounds quite ominous…and exciting per chance? Is that the appeal?"

"**Life has a way of determining your place in it. What's brings you here?"**

"While you may be tracking a man, I'm trying to escape one. You mentioned flip sides before. I appear to be your flip side, of the same coin perhaps? You see, I'm no stranger to danger, but while you willingly seek it, I abhor it, though I may have to fight fire with fire."

"**I'm not sure what your predicament is, and it's none of my damn business, but if you don't mind listening to a man who's spilled more blood than he cares to recall, and had plenty of his own spilled in return, no good will come from sinking to another's level."**

"That's easy for you to say sitting on the opposite side of the table….and on opposite sides of our stations in life. You don't appear to be a man to back down from any fight. Why should I? I'm a very forthright woman, Mr. Hex, so don't take me lightly. I'm more than capable of handling my own affairs in the manner required."

"**No offense meant, and I apologize if I sounded otherwise, but think twice before considering something reckless. I know painfully well where of I speak."**

"Good enough. Well then, it's been a pleasure, and quite an enlightening one. I do hope you find your….man."

"**The pleasure's been all mine, Miss…."**

"Oh, I'm sorry. I never did introduce myself. My name is Samantha…Samantha Crane."

It comes as quite a shock to Hex to realize his quarry is a woman. Was he played the fool? Granted Stone never did confirm that Crane was a man, but the inference was undoubtedly there, and deceit can be perpetrated just as easily by facts not stated as by ones fallaciously so. The chance of her being culpable of horse thievery now seem remote, making him question the true motivations behind the ersatz warrant. A deserted husband, jealous lover, whoever it was would have to retain considerable influence around Bad Rock to involve Stone. Crane no doubt has the looks to drive any man mad and contemplate all sorts of spiteful acts, including the enlistment of a local politician in committing them. Even with regards to Hex, while always honoring his obligations, they should realize once his prey's sexual identity was discovered adverse repercussions might result, unless that too was part of the overall design. He understands in his profession not all pertinent data will necessarily be forthcoming, since some may dissuade him from pursuing the bounty. Regardless of circumstances, there are currently too many questions lacking answers, and it's damn well time that he got some.

The swiftest means of uncovering Crane's background would require someone knowing her in Laughlin, a distinct possibility since she appears to have settled in. She could simply be resting before heading further west, but Hex's instincts tell him this is not a temporary stopover. If that's the case, Stone probably knew that beforehand and could just as easily dispatched someone else for less money. Hex though is a proven commodity and people know he won't do anything foolish or careless. As forthcoming as she was during their brief talk, he didn't expect any further revelations to come straight from the horse's mouth, an apt metaphor to arise considering her equine related crime. She does not seem to be a woman to be taken lightly, but while not appearing dangerous physically, there's a cold shrewdness about her that could lead down a path better left untaken. His best bet is to go to the local sheriff's office and lay his cards on the table, since his presence is under the auspices of the mayor of Bad Rock. Unfortunately he doesn't possess an actual bounty notice, as his transaction with Stone was strictly verbal, a somewhat uncommon method for bounties but certainly not unheard of. If his conspiracy theory is correct, it would've entailed the printing of a bogus notice and potential physical evidence of unethical and possible illegal wrongdoing that Stone and company wouldn't want lying around. If she does not want to go back, he may be in for a far tougher undertaking than first imagined.

The sheriff's office was centrally located on the town's main thoroughfare, a bustling boulevard teemed with numerous stores, hotels, and saloons catering to the basic needs and idle vices of locals and travelers alike. While its adverse desert climate may preclude a metropolitan area from developing, the foundation has been established for a first class social Mecca for gamblers and other thrill seekers of abundant bents. For many, after a full day's drudgery of working hard, the desire's there for a full night's pleasure of playing hard, and there is no shortage of astute business men, and women, who will happily, and of course quite profitably, service those desires. The sheriff's office was impressive in its own right, with sufficient cells and staff to handle most contingencies, and would require generous funding to maintain. The sheriff himself was an affable, middle aged man yet tempered by a distrustful, no nonsense attitude, an outlook which suited Hex just fine. He prefers his lawmen to be lawmen, not unfocused and ineffective politicians hoping to use their position as a stepping stone to higher office. Convincing him he was the real deal without a bounty notice would be the trick.

"**Sheriff Lawton, my name is Jonah Hex. Can I have a minute of your time?"**

"The Jonah Hex. Your reputation precedes you."

"…**and which creates nothing but trouble I might add. I'm in Laughlin to track down a possible horse thief named Samantha Crane. I cannot emphasize possible enough, since I'm having serious doubts about the charges. She seems to have made contacts here, and I was hoping you could tell me about them."**

"I know who you are, so for now I'll take what you say at face value, but please don't prove me wrong and make me regret ever laying eyes on you. I am familiar with Crane. This is not her first visit here. She has made acquaintances, whose identities I prefer not to divulge. But make no mistake, these are not men to be taken lightly. Why she is here I can only surmise, but since she has yet to commit any crimes I'm aware of, it's none of my concern….for now."

"**Rest assured I don't take anyone lightly. These men you mentioned. Can I count on your help if I encounter any….problems with them?"**

"No. You've chosen this life and are paid handsomely for it, so don't expect me to bail you out of any trouble that may arise. Needless to say I don't expect you to start anything either. We'll get along just fine, as long as we understand each other. Now I have other matters to attend to. Good day Mr. Hex, and you'll forgive me if I don't wish you happy hunting." 

The most logical place to find answers was the town's biggest gambling hall. If Crane was associating with men of ill repute, they'd be found here. On the surface, they're operated by well respected god fearing businessmen, but scratch beneath the polished veneer and you'll find some of the vilest scoundrels this side of the Mississippi, all hiding behind a veil of respectability.And if gambling wasn't enough to satisfy your wanton desires, prostitution was part of the equation, thus providing three distinct yet integrated vices, liquor, cards, and women, for prying money from the unsuspecting but quite willing hands of their varied clientele. Hex was never averse to a game of five card stud himself, accompanied by a bottle of their finest whiskey, so there were obviously worse places to be plying his trade this evening. The Royal Flush was an opulent spacious establishment offering any game of chance imaginable, staffed by the usual gaming personnel plus a few shills interspersed throughout covertly employing their skills in enhancing the house's inbuilt advantage. At first glance, Crane is no where to be found in the crowded lobby, but there are numerous smaller rooms used for sundry private activities plus second story offices where the men he was seeking could be at that very moment, accompanied by her perhaps. If Sheriff Lawton's comments are correct, he will not want to reveal his hand too soon, another apt metaphor given the surroundings. For now it's wise to keep his identity a secret, which considering how far he was from his normal bailiwick shouldn't be a problem.

"Hex, how the hell are you?"

"**Bartholomew Lash, you old reprobate. What the hell you doing here?"**

"I'd heard about the action, plus there was a certain young lady I was hoping to see."

"**A woman, I shoulda known. I don't know what excites you more, a game of cards or a young filly."**

"Both, but you already know that. Now what are you doing here. It can't be pleasure, so it must be business."

"**Yes, and I'd be obliged if you'd keep your voice down and not announce to the world who I am. But since you're here, I might as well use it to my advantage. What do you know about the men who run this place?"**

"Two brothers by the name of Starling, originally from back east, Kansas City, Deadwood, Bad Rock. Always in trouble with the law, rustling, shady land deals, those types of things. I understand they're even acquainted with your old nemesis Quentin Turnbull."

"**Turnbull! When were they in cahoots with him?"**

"Two, three years ago, right around the time of that nasty business you were involved in. Word is the Starlings and Turnbull made some big money on a land scam. Apparently they had a falling out afterwards, nothing serious, just a decision on Turnbull's part to sever ties. While infuriating to the Starlings, they lacked the means to convince Turnbull otherwise or take him on face to face for control of Bad Rock. With the money they made, they came here and started the Royal Flush."

"**The Starlings have ties to Bad Rock and Quentin Turnbull. Hmm….what do you know about a young woman named Samantha Crane?"**

"Samantha….why that's the young lady I came to see."

Bad Rock, Samantha Crane, Quentin Turnbull, the Starling brothers, it really was coming together. Any connection to Turnbull was a fiendish one, as he was one of the foulest creatures on god's green earth Hex ever had the misfortune of meeting. That included his son as well. The nasty business Lash alluded to was all too clear in his mind. Two years ago a bounty was issued on young Turnbull for murder, the victim an innocent man who was wrongly accused by Turnbull of being involved with his girlfriend, a young lady named Samantha Crane. As if a jealous rage driving him to murder wasn't bad enough, his own life came to a tragic end just a few months later at the hands of Hex, who was forced to shoot Turnbull in self defense while tracking him. Of course the elder Turnbull, who was already at odds with Hex over other inciteful incidents, swore immediate vengeance. It now appears Turnbull planned on getting Hex and Crane alone in some secluded spot outside Bad Rock to exact his revenge, since he blamed them equally for his son. Crane must have met the Starlings there, and after every ones falling out, decided to head west and employ them as a possible means of protection. The plan was sound, but apparently too obvious, as Turnbull surmised it and then instructed Stone to dispatch Hex to track Crane. Of course now Hex won't continue to play his proposed role in the affair, but that's just the first step. When he eventually doesn't return with Crane to Bad Rock, Turnbull won't take matters lying down. He'll probably send other men to Laughlin, most assuredly killers, plus possibly making the trip himself to ensure first hand things getting done properly this time. If that's the case, it's time for Hex to make some counter moves of his own.

Hex knows the need for secrecy has ended. It's imperative that he meets with the Starlings and Crane to confide his suspicions. The brothers may be unwitting players, but the connection to Crane has thrown them unequivocally into the middle of the maelstrom. And who knows, they may heartily embrace this belated opportunity to strike back at Turnbull. Hex was supposed to telegraph Stone once he had any information on Crane and a probable timeframe for their return, which would then set in motion the framework for their ambush. The intent all along was for them to never make it to Bad Rock alive. Little would Turnbull know that he would be bringing other participants to the dance.

The meeting went off without a hitch, though Crane took further convincing before consenting to the plan. She didn't understand the need of making the journey to begin with, nevertheless placing herself squarely in the line of fire. She obviously wanted Turnbull out of her life for good, but would have preferred a less perilous means. As for the brothers, they viewed this as an excellent opportunity to strike back at Turnbull while again becoming involved in the lucrative land ventures theirs for the taking in Bad Rock. They had no fear of Stone. If Turnbull had him in his back pocket so could they, and the local sheriff was no deterrent either. The likely location for an ambush was Highland Pass, about a half day's ride west of Bad Rock. It's beneficial configuration of high ground, ample protection, and multiple sight lines afforded whoever controlled it insurmountable advantages. The key would be which side of the conflict arrived and established a foothold first. That's where the Starlings come into play. Departing Laughlin immediately would get them to Highland Pass at sunset tomorrow, enabling them to make first encampment among the rocks and effectively turning the tide on Turnbull. The final step would be sending the telegraph informing Stone they would be leaving the following day. With that in mind, Hex departed for the western union to dispatch the misleading missive.

The journey to Highland Pass would encompass a day and a half's ride, a relatively short trip for Hex considering the lengthy travels he has endured. He prefers not to dwell on his life as a bounty hunter. People running from the law, if they keep their wits about them, will wisely use the vast magnitude of this country and flee as far away as possible. Tracking these men required trips of up to two thousand miles, which can take many months and exhaust the sturdiest of riders. He's experienced much of this nation, from flat plains to majestic mountains, from frigid cold to searing heat. Whether gratifying or a complete pain in the saddle, they all contributed to the thrills and chills of his personal odyssey. How much longer he would persist with this occupational madness only time would tell. It certainly is a young man's province, with one minor misstep and you're retired, permanently, and possibly six feet under as well. The oldest bounty hunter he knew was Cole Hammonds, a man of unbeknownst age but surely looking the worse for wear. Constant exposure to the sun along with incessant imbibing of liquor is not the most conducive means of preserving your youthful appearance. Sleeping in a bed is a rarity. Hell a good night's sleep of any kind is a welcome windfall. Three square meals a day is out of the question, and if loneliness bothers you, forget it. The life isn't fit for man nor beast, yet here he was once again escorting another individual to an uncertain fate. At least it's a beautiful woman this time around, one of the finer aspects of the job. This is not a Sunday stroll we're talking about. The Wild West has that moniker for a reason, and all his personal efforts to the contrary have done little to change things. It can be wearing when one reflects back and feels more regret than pride. Regardless of tonight's resolution, further contemplation on his future was a foregone conclusion.

They arrived at Highland Pass at midday, two days after their departure from Laughlin. Hex wasn't sure what he would find, but he had set up a prearranged signal with the Starlings to indicate everything was fine. A quick perusal of the overhead surroundings found nothing of the kind, immediately sending a distress signal to his mind.

**"Samantha, quickly, over here."**

"What's wrong?"

**"Everything...the Starlings aren't here."**

_"You're right about that, Hex. Now slowly, release your gun belt."_

**"Turnbull!"**

_"How've you been, you rotten bastard. I've been thinking about you for quite some time. You can forget about the Starlings. They've already been handled...for good. Samantha, get over here."_

**"Well well, I did a poor job figuring this one after all."**

"Nothing personal, Hex, at least with you. As for the Starlings..."

_"Hex, if you could see the look on that ugly face of yours. How's it feel staring down the wrong end of a gun for a change? You know what's funny. This entire affair has little to do with you. You were just an errand boy, a pawn, a little poetic justice considering our past. This was all about the Starlings. You were the last piece of the puzzle to convince them to leave their protected enclave of Laughlin and get out here where they could be dealt with privately...and quite permanently."_

"I feel like I owe you an explanation. A few years ago the Starlings swindled my parents out of the only parcel of land they owned, a very small tract but a place I called home. Lacking neither money nor the means of fighting back, they had little recourse. It devastated them. My mother died quickly and my father was left a broken man until he too passed away last winter. When I met the Starlings at Turnbull's place, I recognized them immediately. There they were bragging about all the money they had, money they had stolen from my parents. I was enraged. All I could think about was revenge. The next day I talked Quentin into helping me set this entire plan into motion."

**"I can't say I'm surprised about any of this, but there's one thing I don't follow. I thought you hated her for cheating on your son and ruining his life?"**

_"What no one knew is that Samantha was involved with me, not your friend Bat Lash. She spurned him. My son never knew the real story. Instead of thinking rationally, his anger got the best of him. He was always running off half cocked. It's no surprise he ended up the way he did. Of course your role in his death has never been forgotten."_

"**Turnbull, you damn hypocrite. Aren't you forgetting your own role in your son's death? Is all this some stunt to pardon your personal guilt?"**

"_Shut up! I loved my son. What happened between Samantha and me just….happened. There were extenuating circumstances you know nothing about! However for you there are none. You killed my boy, and for that you're going to die."_

BANG!

**"What the hell!"**

"At last….it's done. There's one final twist to this affair. Getting the Starlings out in the open wasn't the only reason I went to Laughlin. I wanted to talk to them and find out if Turnbull had any role in my parents' passing. It took some deception, but they finally disclosed he was involved from the beginning. He just didn't think I would find out. Well….I did, and now everything's come full circle. As for you, I have no quarrel. If it's all the same, I'd rather we parted friends. So unless you plan on doing something stupid, we can say our goodbyes. It's your decision."

**"Uh….considering you're holding a gun on me, I think we can come to some sort of agreement. I'm a bounty hunter, not a lawman. I suppose you had your reasons. Of course I'm out $500."**

"And I'm without parents lost before their time. Strange. I thought there would be some closure after this, but all I'm feeling is...cold."

**"Which is why there are men like me, to do the dirty work best forgotten by others. Killing is a means to an end, nothing more."**

"When I first met you, I asked if you always get your man. This time you didn't. A bitter pill….?"

**"Just more food for thought. One might expect a man like me to have an ego, but I don't. This is just a job, a dirty, filthy, god forsaken job, and nothing more."**

"Think it's time for a change?"

**"I am who I am. I'm a violent man in violent times. When you live the life I've lived for that long, there may be no going back. You reach a point though when time catches up and the solitary lifestyle you've fancied for many years, like yourself, gets old. Perhaps not getting my man was life's way of saying it is time for a change while I'm still young enough to do so. Who knows, with the right woman at my side. That is, if I can still get my...woman?"**

"Why Mr. Hex. You really are a hound, aren't you."


End file.
